Silver is the New Black

“I’m going to stop coloring my hair,” my friend Hannah abruptly informed me as we chatted over lunch and a cup of tea. She came over to hang out and hold my newborn so I could use two hands to eat the meal she so generously prepared for me.

Hannah and I have been friends since high school. In ninth grade we bonded over family drama, crying on the floor of an empty gym locker room, and have been close ever since. We’ve seen each other through just about every season of life: all of the craziness and heartbreak of high school; we lived together most of college; we’ve worked together more than once; we stood in each other's weddings; we lived six blocks away from each other for a year while David and I lived in NYC; we were the first friend to hold each other's brand new babies; and now we get our kids together as often as we can for playdates. We're basically sisters, or sisterfriends (It's one word. I made it up so I know) is what I like to call her. We share the latest health info with each other, skincare and fashion finds, recipes, secrets, and advice. So when she told me she was going to stop dying her hair, I needed all the details and I needed them now. Although I was positive I wasn’t about to do anything like that, I was curious about the reasons she chose to let her hair go. Which was my exact thought– let her hair go. Some subtle brainwashing infiltrated my thoughts as I listened.

“You’re doing what? I never even thought of that as an option.” I said, totally surprised.

“I’m tired of coloring it. It’s inconvenient, unhealthy, and I’m just going to see what happens.” she confidently replied.

Although I couldn't wrap my mind around it at the time, I was proud of her for her bravery and for owning the decision. I thought she was kind of a badass.

I’ve been coloring my hair since I was in high school. I was homeschooled until ninth grade (that’s a story for another time) and didn't even think for a second that my natural hair color wasn't good enough– until there were other girls in the ring. Then I was quickly informed how inferior my natural hair actually was. Apparently, I didn’t know the unspoken rules of fitting in. The peer pressure got to me and I got highlights. Well, my friends Tiffany, Hannah, and I gave each other highlights. We turned Tiffany's bathroom into a mini salon and pulled our hair through highlighting caps (remember those?), then we slapped some eye-watering, nose hair singing, bleaching color on our heads. We laughed about how ridiculous we looked as we waited for the timer to ring so we could wash the toxic concoction off of our hair, revealing our new gorgeous blonde streaks. Looking back, maybe we should have let a professional do it, but anyway, we got the results we hoped for and the rest is history. I continued to color my hair for the next 23 years. I went from blonde, to black, to dark brown, to blonde, to dark brown, to blonde, to dark brown, to blonde, to dark brown… and so on. I thought I’d live in that loop for the rest of my life. But alas, I now had another option to consider.

The truth is, I've been in a war with my silvers since I was twenty-one. I found my first one upon exiting a bathroom stall after my college astronomy class. I remember every detail and emotion exactly, even what I was wearing– that’s how devastated I was (insert eye roll). Exiting the stall, my eyes caught my reflection in the mirror and the only thing I saw was IT! There, on top of my head, glimmering under the bathroom lights, contrasting my dark brown hair was a bright, shining, silvery strand. The whole room started spinning and it was the only thing in focus– BOLD and kinda pretty, but...

“WHAT THE ACTUAL F*CK!?" Those were my exact words. I'm pretty sure I actually yelled it because a woman bolted out of one of the stalls and ran out of the bathroom. "I’m 21! How can this be happening to me?” I gasped, as I promptly yanked it out…then three grew in its place. Turns out that's not an old wives' tale.

After finding that little unwanted glimmer atop my head, I was much more aware of the little silver jerks that didn’t belong. With the first sign of sparkly roots, I'd grab a box of Espresso Brown hair dye and snuff their fire right out. I was not about to have old lady hair. After all, that’s what it is, right? That’s the message I saw in every magazine ad; every commercial; every celebrity woman that was old enough to have silver hair but didn’t; and every box of dye that claimed 100% gray coverage guaranteed. Gray hair wasn’t for anyone except old ladies who had let themselves go and no longer cared about the way they looked. The only person I knew with natural hair was my grandma. Her hair was white as snow. It was absolutely beautiful, but she was my grandma. Don't get me wrong, she was pretty rad, but not necessarily someone I was looking to for fashion advice. This whole not dying my hair idea just wasn’t an option. Or was is?

After Hannah left my house, I couldn’t stop thinking about her decision. I looked in the mirror at my silver sparkles that had just started peeking through and tried to imagine myself with a head full of them. My wheels were spinning. How had I never thought of ditching the dye and just letting my natural hair grow as a real option?

My husband had always encouraged me to stop dying my hair. He would see my small hints of sliver (much to my horror) and tell me how beautiful he thought it was and that I should just let my natural hair grow. “You’ll be a silver fox,” he reassured me with each urging. It was sweet, but I’d laugh and blow him off. There is no way in hell I’m doing that, I would think to myself. Until Hannah told me she was doing it. Now I was giving it some serious thought...for a few minutes. Then I conceded to my social programming, took out my box of dark brown hair dye, and smeared it all over the top of those little sparkles. It may have been my imagination, but I was pretty sure I heard a soft, muffled cry coming from the top of my head as I waited the 25 minutes to rinse it out.

Even though I continued to color my hair, my curiosity was definitely sparked. During our conversation, Hannah directed me to a woman on Facebook who was leading a silver hair movement– her page is called "The Gray Book". Hannah never led me astray in the research department, so I jumped online and looked her up. Sure enough, there was a gorgeous young woman with beautiful silver hair, and her Facebook group was filled with other silver-haired women ranging in age from their 20s to as old as they come. Many were going through the transition process, and some had completed their silver hair journey. I found myself scrolling forever. I couldn't believe how beautiful all of these women were with their crowns of silver bared for all the world to see. I was surprised as I looked at their before and after photos, that I actually LOVED the after photos more than the before. Not only did these women rock their silver hair, but they also looked better with it. Healthier. Like it was some custom color made specifically for them. They also seemed to have a different confidence in the after photos. I was truly inspired by their stories and by the happiness they professed they experienced by letting their hair grow wild and free. Was this something I could do?

It was an entire year before I made a very well (over) thought out, yet still very impulsive decision to let my natural hair start to grow. I kept telling myself that after my 40th birthday, I’d do it. After. Not before. Not on. Just sometime after. That kept the deadline open-ended. Then four months before my 40th I was due for a root touch-up (which I had to do every two weeks at this point, you know, to cover up my gray as fast as I could so no one knew I had any, even though they did) but I just didn't color it. Something shifted in my mind. I decided to see what happened. I felt like I had a bit of a random awakening, like suddenly, a switch went off in my head. I realized that I had absolutely zero idea what my natural hair color actually looked like and that perhaps, just maybe, it would be like the ladies in the photos I had scrolled through the year before. Just maybe it would be a beautiful color that was customized specifically for me.

I told my husband and kids, “I think I’m going to try to grow out my real hair, if I don’t like it I’ll color it again.” I needed to give myself an out just in case.

Needless to say, they were ecstatic (well, my one-year-old was indifferent) and so supportive, which helped a ton!

And so it grew.

As the weeks passed, the more I saw of my silvery mane the more I felt like myself, which totally surprised me. I was LOVING my natural color! Who knew!? I had no idea how much I would love it. The more it grew the more confident I became, which was kind of funny because I had silver and brown roots, dark brown/highlighted ends, and a row of dark brown that was separating the top and bottom from the root touch-ups I had been doing as my highlights grew out. Yep, it looked as crazy as it sounds. It was a palate of discombobulation, but still, I was excited about this crazy, silver-rooted, multi-colored canvas of hair that was unfolding like a slowly painted masterpiece... well, it had potential anyway. It was wild. Like, truly wild. I would notice people staring at my hair with a baffled look on their faces, and somehow it made me stand taller. I was doing something that took a lot of courage and was totally out of the norm, and I felt amazing about it.

As I continued to let it grow, I noticed that I no longer felt shame when it came to my hair, which was something I never recognized I was internally carrying before this process. The shame was induced by small roots revealing my true color, which I would then cover as fast as possible, or wear a hat. I couldn't let anyone know that I wasn't who I presented myself to be. Not only that, but I was scheduling my life around coloring my hair. If I had a party coming up, I’d calculate when I needed to color my hair ahead of time. I’d need at least two days before that so that my roots weren’t visible, and so my head didn’t smell like hair dye. Holy shit, I was imprisoned by my hair!!! When I finally released my silvers from the suffocation of their disguise, they released me from the bondage of insecurity, and the parallels to other areas of my life were profound.

I will admit, there were days in the beginning stages of this process when I toyed with the idea of having all of my hair colored silver to blend the roots or cutting it really short. I even consulted with my two dear friends in Brooklyn, sisters Nicci and Brooke, who own a very successful salon, The Bird House. They were so supportive and offered up a ton of great ideas for the growth process (if you live in New York, I HIGHLY recommend their salon. They have two that are absolutely incredible and the mission behind their salon is inspiring and empowering. You will not be sorry!). I even teased my kids that I might shave my head (my now two-year-old was still indifferent. My eight-year-old thought it might be kinda cool).

Ultimately, I decided that I needed this journey. I needed to sit in the discomfort of change and let it unfold. I am no stranger to transitional times that require patience and letting go, and this felt no different. Let me tell you, I have learned so much about myself through the process. It has been as much an inward journey as it has been outward. I released the hold of what society told me I needed to be to possess beauty and so much more than that. I have found a deeper level of confidence beyond the physical, but also physical confidence that I didn't know was possible. I didn't realize how tied together my external and internal self truly are. I have allowed myself to own who I am in every sense of the word, including my natural appearance (even the little wrinkles that are revealing my admiration for the sunshine). It has been hands down one of the best decisions I’ve ever made for myself. May 29th was my two-year anniversary of starting the grow-out process, and I wouldn’t go back to coloring my hair for anything.

Ok, as a side note, I am not at all against hair dye (although I am an advocate for finding the safest and cleanest hair color option available). My sister is a hair stylist– color is her obsession and she is phenomenal at it! She, along with my Brooklyn friends love helping women feel like the best version of themselves and I’m a massive supporter of that same idea! My deepest and truest feeling is that every single human should do what makes them feel the most confident. If you want to color your hair until you can no longer even see your hair, you should totally do that. My Mimi (my other rad grandma) did that and she was as happy as could be, and a very confident little lady. I’m an advocate for women choosing– but choosing for themselves. Not because someone made them feel like they needed to be a certain way, or do something to meet a standard determined by, well, who the hell knows who sets those standards!?! Do you feel confident? Do you feel like the most incredible version of you? Does it bring you JOY? Is it what YOU want? Then just own it. You are amazing and you can do whatever the heck you want, and I would never judge you for that decision. While you're at it– wear what you want, be comfortable in your body, allow the natural process of aging, or do whatever you want with your skin. Find the places where you feel most confident, the most uniquely you (this world would be super boring if we were all the same), and don't apologize for it. There's nothing more beautiful than a person who is true to the beat of their own heart, setting their own standards, and living life on their terms. Liberate yourself from other people's opinions, reject the status quo, and be free to be your wild, authentic, and incredible self!

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If you're at all interested in following my transition journey of growing out my silver hair, I created an Instagram account to document. It may seem funny to do, but during the past two years, I have found it super helpful to connect with other women who were going through the same process. My hope is that I can inspire some on their journey of growing their natural hair, and give courage to those on the fence about it. The photos are not professional at all, and I don't post there often, but feel free to check it out!

Here's my Instagram Account: https://www.instagram.com/smoky.locks/

If you're curious about transitioning your hair, here are a few more Instagram accounts for inspiration. These are some of the women who inspired me over the last two years. I not only love their hair, but their beautiful, positive spirits and message.

https://www.instagram.com/jens_going_gray.zy/

https://www.instagram.com/thegreyindian/

https://www.instagram.com/randi_honeycutt_/

https://www.instagram.com/thesilverlining_1970/

https://www.instagram.com/thenew.knew/

If you’ve reached the end of this article, I thank you for reading an entire 15 minutes about my hair!

Are you on a personal journey? Are you transitioning to silver? I’d love to hear how it’s going for you! Are you curious about the process or have questions, even if they aren't about hair? Please feel free to leave them in the comments below, or reach out on Instagram! I’d love to connect!